Goodbye: a year in the making

My friend Steph is saying goodbye to Cote d’Ivoire.  Saying goodbye to a culture and people and community and family she’s been purposefully immersing herself in for the last 2 years.

Yikes (if cultural immersion sounds beautifully overwhelming (and it should) think for a minute about un-immersing yourself (oddly, the image that comes to my mind is being covered from head to toe in molasses)).  And of course as I think about her now, my mind goes back to a year ago, back to the night I purposefully memorized my courtyard, back to the day we drove away from our families for the last time. October 31^st marks one year since my plane landed on U.S. soil.  

For months before leaving I was, well we all were, obsessed about What Was Next.  We spent hours researching on the internet and praying and talking it over and over.  Funny thing is during the very last month, the last week, the last day, What Was Next mattered less and less.  It was only What Was Now that mattered.  (and besides, want to know how many of us are doing exactly what we’d planned during all of that obsessing? not a single one of us).  We soaked up each moment, every day as precious, as a fleeting gift.  Instead of thinking about NEXT I hugged my little host sister tightly because I didn’t know how many more times I’d get to do it.

She’s a whole year older now.  They’re all frozen in my mind really.  Frozen at that age, in their usual outfits, doing their usual daily chores and habits.

But in actuality, they’ve changed.  Maybe a lot, maybe a little.

Steph is just starting her journey of goodbye.  In a lot of ways, and in a lot of selfish moments, I wish that my goodbye journey would be finished already.  I was only there a year, one measly little year out of the 25 I’ve lived so far.

But my year there clings to me still.  I've tried to remove it, to ignore it, to move on but I am still saying goodbye.  I’ve been saying goodbye (and often refusing to) for the last year.  And perhaps my goodbye will never be complete, but I'll carry my year there with me as life continues.

I opened up an old journal yesterday.  The one I was writing in for my last month in RCI.  My very last entry was October 25th, 2011, exactly one year ago and the day before we left to debrief in Paris. I'd read Psalm 125, and this verse stuck out to me.  I finished it with a prayer, a prayer I can't even remember praying:

Jesus I trust You. I trust in You as my God, Redeemer, Father, foundation, purpose, fulfillment.

I trust You, right now as I am leaving so many people and things I love.  As I go on to the 'next thing' whatever that even means.  As I am completely unsure about the future.

I trust in You.  You will guide me, You will fill me, You will show me even more about Yourself, You will give me grace. You will be with me, never leave me or forsake me.

I need not fear the sadness or bewilderment or confusion or the culture shock or
 being understood or not.

 I need not fear for You are with me.

I will not be shaken.

Thank You Jesus.  For all of this is only utter grace, I do not deserve ANY of it.  Its all because You died on a cross for me.  I am now cleansed by Your blood, covered in Your righteousness.

Deserving death and punishment, I now have abundant, overflowing LIFE.

Thank You Lord.

Fill me, lead me on today.  Let my eyes/ears be open to You!

I read this prayer out loud yesterday to my mom and I was surprised by the many tears rolling down my face. After I finished, she (tears in her eyes as well) said, "You know, I think that this prayer still works for today, for any day."

(And as with so many things these days) I think she's right.

Long Time, No See: A Synopsis of the Past 3 Months

Just 5 days shy of exactly 3 months since I’ve returned.

You’ll notice that I’ve been a TAD silent here since then. If the transition itself has been difficult, then articulating what it's been like has been impossible. This came as a surprise to me, the girl who always has something to say. But I'm starting to find my words again.

The first month home was one of re-acquaintance. To friends and family, to American food, to my beloved jeans, to constant English. It was definitely a shock to my system in a lot of ways. At the same time I was amazed at how much felt perfectly normal. How there was nothing strange about speaking English constantly or eating a diverse and delectable meal or worshiping American style in church. I felt like I had woken up from a year-long dream, or had fallen into another dimension only to return now a year later. My two worlds, Cote d’Ivoire and the US, couldn’t possibly be connected. They felt so separate. There seemed to be nothing to connect them to each other except for myself. So I’d actually float through most of my day without thinking about it at all and then all of the sudden a smell, a sound, a phrase would instantly take me back to the past year spent in such a magnificently different place.

As the second month arrived, the honeymoon feelings of returning faded. I felt like I was in molasses, I couldn’t seem to get anything on my eternal to-do list finished, or even started. So I reverted to my favorite coping mechanism, what I call my cocoon. I stopped communicating with anyone that wasn’t physically in front of me. I didn’t call people back or email or skype. I didn’t want to talk, talking would inevitably meant having to deal with it all. I especially didn’t want to talk to God; my journaling, which I’ve done regularly all this past year came to a standstill. I was in full fledged denial.

Thankfully this didn't last forever. The week before and of the holidays, through a collection of seemingly small but incredibly significant events, the cocoon began cracking open:
A disagreement with my sister where I finally said the words “I’m not okay.”
A call from a teammate still in RCI.
A counseling meeting with my pastor.
An encouraging word from my uncle.
Slowly my cocoon was breaking. As weekend visits, lunches, and phone calls increased (with both old and new friends) the cocoon started crumbling. I remembered that I not only love talking about God, but to Him as well. Amazing how much easier my life became when I stopped trying to ignore His presence for the majority of the day. He has truly created us to communicate. With each other. With Him.

This is a season of waiting and transition. Anyone who has known me for longer than a second will tell you that I am horrible at both of these. Good thing Jesus is a patient teacher; He wants me to learn to abide and rest. A hard thing to do when the question everyone is constantly asking (including myself) is “So, what’s next?” I don’t know what’s next. My mind wants to immediately flip into problem solving mode and fix my ignorance at the next couple weeks (let alone the next 6 months). But I needn’t bother; He knows. He'll continue to guide me. My job is to keep my eyes on Him.